His Celestial Sentinel
by itsoriginal17
Summary: These are a series of one-shots, in no particular order, relating to the Doctor (usually the Eleventh incarnation) and Clara, telling their story as I see it. I am unsure of how many parts the series will contain, but I hope you read them all and enjoy them. Whoufflé, babies!
1. The Impossible Girl

**_Clara Oswin Oswald knew that she was not an impossible girl. No, she wasn't. She was just a girl in love who had made it her life's mission to protect him. She was just doing what she was born to do._**

* * *

He may not have noticed her as much she would have hoped, but she had always been there. It was her life, what she had been born to do.

She was there, always either a step ahead or one behind, helping. At times, she was the one that set the wheels in motion. Others, however, she was the one left behind to fix his mess. Either way she never minded, even if she did hope he would notice, all she cared about was his safety.

And so she protected him. She guided him, like a guiding light through the darkness, always there to help. She even died for him. Again and again and again. But it was worth it. She was sure of that. Yet she kept being forgotten, unseen, unheard... unwanted.

But then, then he regenerated. And she met him. She was noticeable now. Worthy. She was his companion and for the first time, for the first time ever he truly saw. And yet, he didn't. Amelia Pond was the first face that face saw. River Song was his wife. They had both died on him already. And she, she was another girl. Convenient, just there, a momentary replacement for disillusioned hearts and a heart-broken man. A Raggedy Man. A clever man, yet not clever enough.

_Run you clever boy and remember..._

Yet she stayed. It hurt, but she could not let go, not now, not ever. Not when he looked at her those big sad eyes. Not when he called her his Souffle girl. His Clara. And oh, how it ached and how true it was, if only she could say the same thing about him. _She would call him hers, of course, but his hearts belonged to someone else. They always had._

But she knew, that even so, losing his Impossible Girl would kill him. And even though, Clara Oswin Oswald knew that she was not an impossible girl, she let him have it, that crazy dream of his. Because no, she wasn't. She was just a girl in love who had made it her life's mission to protect him. (She knew it was simply her destiny. She was born to love and save him.)

And she knows, that for a moment, he believed she was so much more. She was not, is not, and will never be anything more than a girl violently in love. She may have protected him, but she is no guardian angel (the idea of her being something so celestial makes her laugh a bitter laugh), no healing balm to his many wounds, scars, and bruises. If anything she is his sentinel, guarding his life and offering her own.

Yet she pretends. (For him, it is always for him.) She pretends she is what he sees in her. All smiles and happiness. All hope and curiosity. A pure heart and an inquisitive soul. Yes, she pretends she is something that is extraordinary when she knows it is not true.

But it has always been like this, it will always be. And that's okay, it truly is. She simply doesn't matter, not ordinary, little her. After all, there is no Doctor without Clara and most certainly no Clara without the Doctor. It has always been so. They are destined to this game, this dance in which she is always chasing after him. Always watching over him, ensuring that he remains triumphant.

Still, she can only hope, whenever she allows herself to do so, that one day he will truly see her. (Other hopes and dreams, like that of being the one he loves have been forgotten and buried six-feet under.) And the thought echoes through her head as she falls because she knows, knows this may be that last time she will save him. She was to do what she was born to do once more... and she has no more lives to give away.

_...remember me._


	2. The Guardian Angel

_**Because now he sees her. All of her. Clara in every form, shape, and echo.**_

* * *

She had always been there, hovering about, not that he had noticed. (He could be oblivious that way. A sad trait, really.)

He regrets it now. Ignoring her. Forgetting about her. The girl who had always chased after him, protecting.

_The Soufflé Girl._

She was the recipe to everything. Perfect for him in every way. Made the way he needed her. Born to be there for him. Born for his sake and his alone. Sacrificing herself again and again. Never complaining.

But he does regret it. (He knows he has hurt and he hates hurting anyone.) And he does search for her once he realizes. Realizes he has seen her before. Known her before. She has been there with him. She has lived and died. They have dance this dance multiple times.

_She is the Impossible Girl._

They tell her she isn't. She believes she isn't. But he can see it. Clara Oswin Oswald is as far from average as one can be. She is perfect. She is brave. She is funny... oh, so funny. And always there for him. All those echoes, all those copies, always there.

She guards him. She protects him. She guides him. And the fact is that he has long remained ignorant of her importance in his life. In all of them. In each regeneration and to each self. It kills him. Because he knows. He is aware of the hurt he has caused her. And yet, she hovers like she has always done. She is a perpetual presence in his life. Almost as much of a permanent feature in his life as his beloved TARDIS (the one that Clara introduced him to). And as always, she is a small hand on his shoulder, softly guiding.

_Like the Guardian Angel she is._

He knows that she would believe it absurd. She would state she is nothing special, worse of something so celestial. She will say she is more of a sentinel than anything else. And she is. His celestial sentinel and he will always believe so.

Because now he sees her. All of her. Clara in every form, shape, and echo. (Finally.)

_A mystery wrapped in an enigma squeezed into a skirt that is just... a little bit... too tight._

Clara the one that protects him. The one aids him in very step of the way. The one who lives many lives and dies many deaths. All for him. Always for him. (Undeserving him.) Because that was what she was born to do. Every version of her was born to save him.

And it hurts. Because he will loose her. Again and again. And he does not want to. He wants her to remain alive, by his side. Because he cares. Because... because he loves her. And he can't loose her. Not her. Because she is she. She is his and his alone. And simple perfect in every way.

_My Clara. _

"Clara, no."


	3. The Oldest Story

**_"It's the oldest story in the universe, this one or any other. Boy and girl fall in love, get separated by events. War, politics, accidents in time. She's thrown out of the hex, or he's thrown into it. Since then they've been yearning for each other across time and space, across dimensions. This isn't a ghost story, it's a love story!"_**

**_And it began like any other story. Just the Doctor and Clara. The Chin Boy and the Soufflé Girl. The Clever Boy and the Impossible Girl. ("One day you meet the Doctor. And of course, it's the best day ever. It's just the best day of your life.")_**

* * *

_"It's the oldest story in the universe, this one or any other..._

Oh, yes, the oldest story there ever was. It is as old as time itself, if not older. It is their story. The story of how it all commenced and how it all unraveled.

_Boy and girl fall in love, get separated by events..._

And it began like any other story. Just the Doctor and Clara. The Chin Boy and the Soufflé Girl. The Clever Boy and the Impossible Girl. (One day you meet the Doctor. And of course, it's the best day ever. It's just the best day of your life.)

He loved her long before he realized it, long before she met the actually, properly real her. And yet he has loved her for longer than she loved him and yet he still has loved her for less.

(Because, because he's brilliant, and he's funny, and mad, and best of all, he really needs you.) And she, she has loved him for longer. From the very beginning. From his very first face to his very last. She has loved him for oh, so long, and yet, for not so long after all.

(But that is how it is with them, never quite making sense, yet making perfect sense all at the same time.)

_War, politics, accidents in time..._

And oh, so many events and spins and twists in time. They have danced a long dance and yet, although old, it remains new. They have been kept from each other for oh, so long and yet, they always find their way back to each other.

_She's thrown out of the hex, or he's thrown into it..._

She jumps into his Time Stream and she travels with him. She always has. All of those millions of echoes and copies following him across the universe, across the stars. It is her sacrifice, as she jumps and falls and hopes she can save him. She lives to find him, dies to give him another chance, another day to save the universe, no matter how ungrateful the universe may be.

And he, he flies away from her without even knowing it. He does not realize her sacrifice, not for the longest of times. He runs and runs (Run you clever boy and remember) and he forgets, again and again. But then he realizes, he realizes his mistake. He becomes aware and so he reaches towards her. He knows he must find her.

_Since then they've been yearning for each other across time and space, across dimensions…_

And yes, they reach towards each other. She saves him again and again, tries to keep him safe. He forgets only to remember. They look for each other, a permanent if invisible feature in the other's life. And like gravity they are pulled together and like stars they collide. He is the saviour of universes. She is his personal saviour. There is no Doctor without Clara and no Clara without the Doctor.

_This isn't a ghost story,..._

And all those million echoes and copies become Clara, running to save him once more. And he remembers, running himself after her. He will save her this time. And just like that the ghosts are gone, they drift apart. His past selves, his past mistakes are suddenly not so heavy in his hearts. And Clara, all of her, every Clara there existed, made it possible. All these copies make up the beautiful, perfect, bossy, funny-nose-possessing original. All these copies healed him.

And now, they are finally here, both of them, no more fear, no more running, no more remembering (or rather forgetting). No more haunting pasts. Because now it is them, just them. No more ghosts. Just Clara, just the Doctor. Finally, finally after all this time...

_...it's a love story!"_


End file.
